


Is It Cruel or Kind...

by albionship



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, idontknowwhatiamdoing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21629749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albionship/pseuds/albionship
Summary: The priest's musing on what happened
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Kudos: 71





	Is It Cruel or Kind...

**Author's Note:**

> a post canon fix-it fic... PWB makes me ship hetero ships...  
> the title is taken from the first line of Music When the Lights Go Out by The Libertines cuz i suck at coming up with a decent one.

It was a fox and I knew it. It followed, so I had to run a little. I ran and ran, and after a while, I finally gathered enough courage to turn my head to look back. 

There was nothing, but I saw the leaves of nearby brushes rustle. 

Damn it. I took a moment to catch up my breath again. Those leather shoes were not designed for sports. I bent forwards and rested my palms on my knees. This body was not designed for sports either. For a good five minutes I stood there. The fatigue and adrenaline hadn’t passed. I was sweating. In the moment of weakness, I walked to the nearest liquid store and bought all the G&T they had. It was already half past ten. 

I walked home with the bag of alcohol dangling. It was a walk longer than I’d expected. Light from cars reflected on my face as they drove by. The yellowish white light hurt my eyes 

Pam had already gone to bed. I walked carefully on my toes into my room and opened the first can of G&T even before I sat down. It washed down the bitterness I had long held in my mouth. It felt so good.

#

I meant it as a joke. “You’re never, ever, ever allowed in my church agin.” How long was “never, ever, ever” anyways?

I thought of her the next Sunday and the next next Sunday. And, of course, the next next next Sunday. And every Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday.

That was pretty much everyday, right?

#

“Kneel.” I heard myself say that, over and over again, in my head. I was not going to burst into flames if I had sex. 

Nor was I going to if I masturbated. 

I reached down my right hand as I thought of her. Kneeling. In front of me. Now I thought about it, it was probably the first time in her life that she did what she was told. 

There was a burst of flames down there. That was too hot and it was going to hurt me and I let it. 

When you became a priest, you gave up many things, but your sex drive wasn’t one of them. Sadly. You felt it run through your body, from fingertips to your dick. But you couldn’t have sex. You thought about God. You thought about sex. You tried not to think about them at the same time. You wanted to think about God more, but what you were really thinking about was sex. Sex with a certain person, a certain very attractive woman. The memory of it, the passion, the emotions, the steamy breath, the temporary numbing of everything, the the nice, warm moistness that swallowed you alive. You thought about it so hard that eventually you’d just say fuck it—not to God, obviously. 

Sweat dropped onto my robe in the small, claustrophobic confession box, where anyone could be and should be honest. The sound of my rapidly moving hand was the one confessing and absolving. I thought about the woman and God was watching. He knew my weakness.

“Kneel,” I said. _Fuck it_ , I said. 

And there she knelt, in my head. If I just closed my eyes… I didn’t tell her to kneel because I wanted to appear superior. I wanted to, more than anything, solemnly slip into the same debauchery, in which she drowned herself. 

A burst of desire came in form of thick, white, and jelly-ish liquid. I silently yelled her name.

No painting fell down. All was forgiven.

#

_“The world was made in seven days. And on the first day light came and then a few days later the sun came.”_ The bible was ridiculous, I thought to myself as I stepped into the church. 

But no, I didn’t say that to Pam and other people that came to the church today. At least I thought I didn’t. This morning, I mostly spent more time glancing towards the confession box from time to time as my fingers tapped rhythmically on the lectern. My mind wandered, more than usual. 

“Father?” Pam came to me after the people were gone. 

“Yes?” 

“Several people said they particularly enjoyed the mass today.”

“Did they?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Did they mention what they like about it?”

“Why? What you said about love. Absolutely. That was so moving. Even I shed one or two tears.” 

What about love did I say? I needed to know.

#

I remembered it was somewhere around here. Maybe the next block? I kept looking at my right, searching for a grey-ish green shop front with a simple cafe word. Then a group of people chattering on the opposite side of the street caught my eyes. And I saw her. I almost got myself killed. A car came straight to me, going a bit faster than it should have. 

“Oh hey!” I said to her.

“Hello, Father!” She tried to balance the mugs and plates on the tray before she looked up at me. I knew that forced smile. Her mouth moved but someone just walked past through us. I didn’t catch a thing.

“Um… I just thought… Oh well, you’re cafe is going really well.”

“Yeah, it’s really, really well.”

“Really well… Well, I just thought I’d pop by… and… and have a guinea pig coffee. Now that sounds a bit weird.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it’s absolutely normal… Who doesn’t want a guinea pig coffee from time to time. Can you just sit here a chair and I will get you something.” She managed to grab a chair with everything that was still on her hand and put it in front of me. “Coffee? Anything else?”

An old man with slightly worn grey jumper came to me. “Hi, I am Joe,” said he.

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you it’s chatty Wednesday.” 

“Chatty Wednesday?” I probably looked a bit confused.

“Well, you chat, Father. I will be right back.”

“You’re a father?” asked Joe.

“Yes I am.” 

He reached out his hand, and we shook hands. I’d not done this in a way. His hand felt warm and callous. “I am a father, too. I have three kids, Scott, Daisy, and Jack.” 

“I am not…”

“They’re all grown-ups now. They work and have their own families. You know, they have their own things.”

“Yes… it’s part of life… Sadly…”

“But you’re doing well now, aren’t you?”

“I know. They were lovely kids. So sweet…” 

“Oh, I see you’ve already made friends.” She came with a cup of coffee. I wasn’t quite sure what kind of coffee it was, and I suddenly feared it’d taste utterly bitter. “Here you go.”

“Yes, this is my friend, Joe, who has three kids.”

“They are wonderful, wonderful kids.”

I watched her wave goodbye to the last guest. The guinea pig on her apron moved cheerfully. 

“Phew, that was a crazy day.” I said as I followed her into the shop.

“I meant it when I said the cafe is doing really well. People just don’t believe me. Dad and Claire sometimes still look at me as if I was broke.” 

“They should come and take a look themselves.”

“They should. They should.”  


She took away my cup of coffee, surprised that I didn’t drink much. “Is it not to your liking?”

“I… I think I am probably more used to G&T.”

“Too bad I don’t have any here. I can get you some from the store around the corner though.”

“Nah, this is fine. It’s always good to try new thing.” We sat at the table where I once played with the guinea pig.

“How’s the guinea pig? It’s still alive, right? Is it still alive?”

“Of course it is. They don’t die that easily! Hilary’s got a friend as well. Stephanie.”

“Oh, I am happy for her.  I am also kinda her friend, you know. We spent an afternoon together.”

“Right, she probably still remembers you. Do you maybe want to have a little chat with her?” She got up and opened the cage, two squeaky, furry little things running out. I rushed to catch them.

“This is…?”

“Stephanie.”

“Oh hi, Stephanie.” I said.

“She’s actually a hamster. The guy gave it to me thought it was a guinea pig. It’s a cross-species friendship.”

“Like the one we had?” 

She bursted out laughing.

“I am sorry.” I blurted out.

“For what?” Her pitch rose.

“… The cruel goodbye.”

“What? No, I barely think about it now.” It was a lie. I know.

“Good.” Another lie. 

“I am sorry about that.” I said again.

“No. It’s nothing. Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Shush… let’s just leave it there for a bit.”

I counted from 1 to 10, while she averted her gaze. So I went on counting, 11, 12, 13…“I didn’t know what to do. I panicked because if I fall in love, my life would be…” 

“Fucked.”

“Yes.” I reached out my hand, the one that I was not holding Stephanie with, and my eyes lingered on her thin fingers. “But it’s not. It’s not fucked.” Our hands eventually touched. Only slightly.  
  



End file.
